


already given up on myself twice (third time is the charm)

by shakingshoulders



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Andy Hurley - Freeform, Angst, From Under the Cork Tree, Joe Trohman - Freeform, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Pete Wentz's Suicide Attempt (Best Buy Incident), Peterick, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Sad, Van Days, but it's about suicide attempts so, fall out boy - Freeform, low key Ryden but not really, no death I swear, patrick stump - Freeform, pete wentz - Freeform, take this to your grave, theyre unsuccessful, this is pretty sad because we all know I only write sad shit, this isn't that graphic necessarily, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:25:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakingshoulders/pseuds/shakingshoulders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete Wentz wasn't used to being the poster boy for fucked up emo kids across the nation. In fact, that was Gerard Way of My Chem's job. He wasn't prepared for the wave of fans who "got it", and looked up to him for being and enhanced version of himself: a Tinseltown big shot that happened to churn out depressing lyrics while he popped anxiety pills. Faced with an audience that scrutinized his every move, Pete's life was always changing, from lost and won crowds to lovers who came and went like the street signs and skylines he passed every sleepless night on Fall Out Boy's tour bus. The singular fixed point in his life was Patrick Stump, five years his junior, who would always come for him when he called, needing support, a song, or just a body to be there.<br/>These are the two times Pete almost picked up the phone, and the one time he did.<br/>Alternatively referred to as the two times Pete almost kissed Patrick, and the one time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	already given up on myself twice (third time is the charm)

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my work before, you're probably thinking "wow! she writes a lot of half decent Peterick suicide based fics." Guilty as charged. I'm planning on uploading something post hiatus soon, and possibly with a happier tone, but yeah, still FOB, still Peterick. I'm trash. Trust me, I know. These are all old fics idk what to do with. Enjoy this though!  
> P.S. I went to wintour on Saturday and I've never cried so hard

**Chicago, _ **Illinois, circa 2003:**_**

__The members of Fall Out Boy had never imagined the level of succes they had achieved in such a short amount of time. Sure, Pete had been in several heavier bands before, who had made him practically a local legend, the same going for Andy Hurley. But 19 year old Patrick and 18 year old Joe had been star struck by Fueled By Ramen approaching them, and even more so by the interest they had received from such a big shot label like Island Records.

They were playing shows in actual venues now, not just garages and basements, and we're making enough money to rent out their own three bedroom apartment on West Roscoe street in the middle of bustling Chicago. 

It was in their budget, and in a decent neighborhood, the only set back seemed to be the bedrooms; four members, three beds. Pete was quick to volunteer to sleep on the couch, it seemed perhaps even ideal for him. It's not like his worsening insomnia allowed him much sleep in the first place, so when he finally was able to drift off, a shitty couch beneath him was the least of his concerns. 

They moved in just before Patrick's 19th birthday in April of 2003, and there they shot the cover for their debut record, which, very much to their general surprise, gained a tight laced, cult following in the Chicago area. Kids recognized them on the streets. Hundreds of people had began to read Pete's LiveJournal. 

Pete, however, hadn't doubted the talent of his bandmates for a second, and the fans came as no blatant surprise to him. The only shocking thing was their dedication to the group, and even though he had the most people there for him that there had ever been, he also had never felt so alone. He figured that it was easy to preface to himself that him and Patrick didn't exactly have a normal friendship, unlike him and Joe. Joe Trohman was a stoner fresh out of high school, always cracking jokes, and though he was loyal to Pete, it wasn't easy to deem anyone's relationship as complicated as the one between him and Patrick. 

It had started at 2 in the morning, on the 15th of April, only the third day after the band had settled into their new home. Pete had really tried to make it that night, he had, but his eyelids had become heavy and his sidekick screen had began to burn his brown eyes, but still, he was unable to envelope himself in the familiar feeling of sleep that had nearly abandoned him the past few months. 

Gingerly, he rose, legs shaking as he felt along the couch, and made his way to Patrick's room. To his surprise, under the door he could tell that the kid's light was on, and either he had fallen asleep with it, or he was still up and in the same boat as Pete was. Selfishly, he wished it was the latter. He knocked quietly enough to save from waking Joe and Andy, but assertively just the same, sending chills down a teary-eyed Patrick's spine. He shuffled for a moment before bringing himself to weakly knock back on his bedside table, to which Pete interpreted as an invitation in. Patrick was sitting upright on his bed, hatless, wearing a yellow tshirt, gray sweatpants, and mis-matched socks. His glasses were strewn to the side, and he was sniffling into the crook of his arm. 

Pete shut the door quietly, and strode quickly towards to younger boy's bed, confidently plopping down next to him. 

"'Trick?" He all but whispered. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah Pete, I'm f-fine," Patrick's voice cracked twice. 

Patrick could tell that Pete couldn't sleep. Pete could tell that Patrick was not all right. However, skipping interrogation, Pete simply shook his head, and instead pulled back the covers of the former's full-sized bed, climbing inside, and motioning for Patrick to do the same. He didn't question it, just silently turned to face Pete, who used his thumb to wipe away stray tears from his blue-green eyes. Patrick buried his head in the crook of Pete's neck. Pete rested his head on the top of Patrick's, bringing his arms around him and breathing in deeply. Patrick returned the embrace, clinging to Pete like a life line. After awhile of staring in silence, Patrick simply and quietly shifted to sit up, turning off his lamp and moving back to lay with his back turned to the older man, who took the opportunity to align his bent knees with Patrick's, and once again wrap his arms around his stomach, pulling him close and now burying his face in the strawberry blond's shoulder. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and for the first time in awhile, both boys slept through the night soundly. 

Pete had moved back to his couch by the time Patrick woke up. They went through their day as planned, and they didn't mention it. However, that day was the first that Andy and Joe would remember as The Day Pete and Patrick became PeteandPatrick, Joined at the Hip. 

From then on, whenever Patrick would wake up crying, or whenever Pete would find himself sleepless staring at the ceiling, they would find their way to each other. A week after the first night, Patrick blushed furiously as he typed an awkward text to Pete. 

_from: lunchbox, 3:04 am_

_Pete I can't sleep and I doubt that you can either. My room?_

Pete chuckled to himself. This was  _so_ Patrick, even though Pete was the one that had previously sought out help, of course the kid was nervous to ask. 

_from: Peter, 3:04 am_

_of course dude im glad u txted_

Pete thought about this for a moment before sending another text. 

_from: Peter, 3:05 am_

_trick u dont have to b worried i will always come if u need me even if im asleep just come out and wake me up. i will never mind being near u and not a second of lost sleep is rly lost if im with u. rmember that._

Patrick sighed as Pete came into his already dark room, the only light coming from a street lamp near his open window. Pete began to make his way to his bed, but Patrick, deciding he absolutely could not last another second without the comforting warmth of human contact, sprang out of bed to wrap his arms around Pete, who at first was a little startled, and scared that he was being rejected, Patrick retreated slightly, causing the other boy to return his original embrace, only tighter. 

And that's just how it went. It was simple, some nights Patrick needed Pete. Some nights Pete needed Patrick. They loved each other in a manner that made their hearts ache. They loved each other in a way that made Pete feel he had some purpose. They loved each other with such subdued intensity that it scared Pete, who had started to drift from Patrick on tour, instead spending his nights with groupies in basements and vans and alleyways behind gigs.

And then it stopped being girls. Some nights while on stage, Pete began to comb the crowd for a one night stand, and more increasingly, he found his gaze directed to the boy in the back with the blue hair, or the guy taking shots at the bar. The further he went with them, the dirtier he felt crawling into Patrick's bed when the going got tough, as his increasing comfort with his closeted sexuality made him start to realize the depth of the quiet love he had with his best friend. Patrick, now 19, had had a few girlfriends here and there, but got rejected more often than not. Pete could pick up just about anyone he wanted, and ironically, Patrick couldn't seem to pick up anyone, except of course Pete, who had to keep telling himself to suppress whatever strange feelings he had, because as they told all the fans with speculations, "we just don't work that way."

However, it started to get too loud to ignore. The blunt realization came one day in September, when the wind was blowing harder than Pete had seen it in a long time, and frost danced on the window just across from His Shitty Couch in the apartment on West Roscoe. Andy and Joe had headed out to the Pick Me Up Cafe perhaps 20 or so minutes prior with their girlfriends, and left Pete alone with his thoughts and the locked door to Patrick's room. 

It always rained in their apartment. For, when the Chicago weather wasn't coming down, either Pete or Patrick ought to be storming. Sometimes Pete would find himself locked in the bathroom on the sunniest of days, thunder rumbling in the form of muffled sobs from his throat, lightning flashes of metal blades and drops of red, rain clouds hiding behind wide eyes and stashed pills. Other times, Patrick was locked in his room, salty streams ebbing over his copy of the bible, or onto his phone, because each time he convinced himself that he was going to tell Pete, or he was going to tell his parents he was making the drive to Wilmette, because he felt awful not telling them. 

It was a rare occasion on the day it happened: stormy skies, and stormy eyes, from both of the boys, star crossed by the divide that was the door to Patrick's room. Patrick was done coming to terms with himself. He had never felt such a pang of jealousy as when he opened the up back door of the bar they were playing to find Pete with a face full of lips and tongue and sweat and passion. It happened frequently, but that same pang only returned when he found Pete kissing a guy, but even with the girls he found himself jealous just the same, and eventually, he came to realize that maybe it wasn't Pete he wanted to be, getting whoever he wanted, it was whoever who was kissing Pete. 

The more time that passed since Andy and Joe had left, the more ancy Pete had gotten. Without a text, he finally got up and apprehended Patrick's olive-green bedroom door, knocking twice before deciding to jimmy the broken lock open himself. Patrick stood to face him, and they both had tears in their eyes. This is perhaps where the clichés hit, the two meant-to-be-lovers staring at each other through tears on a cold ass day in September, but that's about where the romance ended. Pete got dangerously close to Patrick, who kept breaking their gaze to flicker a glance at the former's lips. They stood like this for what felt like hours, until Patrick finally decided to do it, and began to lean forward, which was only met by Pete backing away. Crushed, dewdrops began forming in his eyes again, as he worked up the courage to fix his gaze back on Pete, and the increasing gap between them. Pete didn't have to speak for Patrick to get it, that's how it had always been with them, but he did anyway. 

"We're all wrong."

And maybe that's what drove him to the roof of Fall Out Boy's hotel in Milwaukee later that month. 9 stories up, Pete decided that he had never seen a city look so dark. He wanted to strike a match and set fire to it, because it felt so wrong to not see the lights one more time. Every time he mumbled a name under his breath, he took a step closer to the edge. 

_Patrick_

Pete had left a note on his room door. 

_Patrick_

He had written a song in his notebook, which was left open on his bed, which he, with one last kick of irony, had entitled "Summer Song"

_Patrick_

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

_from: vonstump, 12:24 am_

_Pete I need you. I'm sorry to give so no warning but I'm coming to your_  room. _It's too bad tonight to be alone._

Pete nearly choked. He knew that Patrick would find the note any minute now, and that this was the time to do it, before he could try to stop him. But still, he faltered and took a step from the edge. 

_from: vonstump, 12:29 am_

_Pete please you don't want to do this. Where are you? Talk to me please_

Pete nearly stepped off the ledge and down to the main ground of the roof, to safety, but he knew he couldn't change his mind now. He'd put too much time into thinking about how exactly he was going to do it to fuck everything up again. 

_from: vonstump, 12:30 am_

_Peter LK. Please. I love you._

_-ding-_

_from: Petey, 12:30 am_

_trick stumph. please. im in love with you._

Pete regained his confidence in the decision, and moved forward, to the very edge, just a step from tumbling over. He didn't understand why this had to be so hard for someone who hated himself so much, but it was, and sometime about it had Patrick written all over. Behind him, a door flung open.

"Pete," Patrick's voice was soaked in feigned calmness. 

"Patrick," Pete didn't attempt to hide the waver in his voice. 

"You don't want to do this," his voice was cold but threatening to spill over with emotion. "I know I didn't."

"What?" Pete turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the glowing boy, illuminated seemingly by himself instead of by the burnt out skyline Pete so desperately wished he could become. 

"When I was 15, I made this pact with myself. I was going to end it at 21, but I decided against it, Pete. You know why?"

Pete shrugged.

"Because I met my best friends. Because Fall Out Boy was taking us places. But most importantly, because of you, Pete. You. I need you."

"You're just a kid."

"You're just pessimistic."

"Prove it."

"I'm in love with you too."

Pete nearly tripped off the ledge right then and there, regaining his composure enough to take a step back and ultimately off his ledge. Patrick advanced forward to grab at his clammy hand, pulling him into a tight hug, clinging to the fabric of his hoodie like he could disappear at any second. Pete sobbed. He cried for everything, for putting Patrick through this, for being blinded by his problems, for the realization that Patrick Stump, the musical genius who had showed up for an audition for a punk band in sandals and an argyle sweater, was not always such a fixed point as he had thought he was. 

That night, in Patrick's hotel room, Pete holding him as close as he used to, Patrick turned over to face the bassist's dark eyes, matching them with his baby blues. 

"Pete, please promise me you won't do that again."

Pete sighed. He thought of a good response for just long enough to make the silence awkward before speaking. 

"I love you."

Patrick's heart sank, both because they had never been so open about it, and because Pete had utterly ignored what he had asked him previously. Patrick shifted to the other side once again, fitting against Pete like his other half. 

"I love you too." 

 

 

 


End file.
